


Discipline

by FlitShadowflame



Series: Collision Course [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Gen, Peter is a little shit and Yondu spoils him rotten, Pre-Slash, Public Nudity, Spanking, UST, Yondu's filthy mouth needs to be washed out with soap, and all the Ravagers know it, mild Yondu/Peter implications, public spanking, very mild frottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlitShadowflame/pseuds/FlitShadowflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one steals from Yondu Udonta and gets away with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme fill (prompt and original, unbetaed, and typo-ridden post is [here](http://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=412430#t412430)). Basic gist of prompt: Yondu spanks (adult) Peter in front of the Ravagers.

The Ravagers had accepted a long time ago that the Terran was Yondu's favorite. When he was a kid, it didn't seem like a big deal; Yondu had practically raised the brat, he was allowed to dote on his kid, right?

But this time Quill had run off with an M-ship and screwed them out of a huge pile of units. The Ravagers wanted to see repercussions for that kind of activity. None of them implied, not even for an instant, that Peter should face Yondu's usual punishment for theft from "the clan," but they cautiously mentioned their dissatisfaction. Yondu ruled through a combination of fear, admiration, and popular consent. No one would tell him to torture or kill his kid, but they made it clear that doing nothing at all to Peter when he'd have brutalized and executed anyone else for the same offense simply would not be tolerated.

And he couldn't exactly kill _all_ of them because they wanted him to discipline someone who had stolen from him. From them all, really, because they'd have a cut too.

So, after some consideration, Yondu posted a bounty. Nothing outrageous, but high enough not to insult, and with the stipulation "ALIVE" loud and clear. In fact, to appease the crew's ire somewhat, he phrased it more as "Missing/runaway pet, reward for LIVE return." Everyone called the Terran his pet anyway, so why not? And it would piss Peter off, which was a nice bonus.

This was not exactly how he expected to get the kid back, he had to admit. Half-frozen and nearly dead from exposure, trying to get himself killed through sheer stupidity...actually that last part did sound like Quill. Regardless of the kid's condition, he had a reputation to uphold. He kept his arrow out, and he only let down a fraction of his guard when Peter started talking him around. He could feel the crew's growing unrest, so when the kid's ragtag band of escaped felons were all gathered in the cell/storage room, he grabbed Peter's arm to stop him from following.

"Not you, boy. We need to have a little chat, you and I." He leered at the felons, who stirred uncertainly. "Don't worry. I won't hurt my boy Quill...much. I need him in one piece."

He hauled Peter to the mess hall, and buzzed the rest of the crew to join them. Peter was already squirming in his grip, swearing there was "no need, really, I'm very sorry, Yondu - Captain - sir, please - "

The room filled, and Yondu took a breath.

"Now, some of you got ideas about how I run my damn ship. Some of you never liked my 'pet Terran' much and you think you know when he needs to be punished. I don't give a shit. You got somethin to say, you say it to my face. Discipline has always been whatever the fuck I want it to be, whenever the fuck I feel like it. And you bet your ass I got favorites. Some of you shits couldn't find your own ass with both hands. Followin' orders is only a recommendation of your character until you stop doin' it, at which point, what the fuck am I gonna do with an idiot who don't even know to do as he's told?

"This dumbass, however, is not a totally useless sack of shit. He busted out of Kyln, got that fucking orb by himself in the first place, and the only reason he was caught by Nova was a confluence of bounty hunters and Gamora, the most dangerous woman in the galaxy, also known as a daughter of Thanos. I'm willin' to bet any of you fuckheads wouldn't last five seconds against Gamora." The crew muttered unhappily; this wasn't going at all as expected.

"Still... _nobody_ steals from Yondu without bein' punished." He eyed Peter. "Strip, boy," he ordered finally. Peter, cowed silent for once (thank the stars) obeyed. "Some of you figure this Terran is the closest thing I got to a kid, an heir maybe. And maybe that's so. I do know the way kids from my planet got punished would probably kill the brat, but I did some research on Terrans when we were picking him up all them cycles ago. Wanted to know what I was gettin' in to. And they got their own methods for handlin' disobedient brats, so we're gonna try one of 'em. Might be I shoulda done this a long time ago, boy."

Peter had dragged it out as long as he could, but he stood there naked now, without any shame. The Ravagers had all seen him nude at least once, what with how he carried on, so there was no reason to act like he should hide his junk.

He did look nervous, though. Good.

Yondu sank into a chair and beckoned Peter closer. A quick flash of blue and red, and he grabbed Peter by the hair to yank him face-down over his lap.

Peter went stiff as a board. The crew watched raptly as Yondu went for an open-handed smack on the bare, pale skin of Peter's rear. It landed with a satisfyingly loud noise, and the yelp Peter made was equal parts pained and indignant.

"Supposedly age has somethin' to do with how many lumps you get," Yondu said idly, tracing the crisp outline of the red handprint he'd left. Peter made another noise, too shocked to even be indignant. "How old are you in them Terran cycles, boy? Don't lie."

Peter cried out at the second blow before answering, with an anxious, trembling voice, "I...I'm th-thirty-two, sir." He hadn't sir'd Yondu this much since before he started growing bristles on his chin.

"Mhmm, that's what I thought. Somethin' like...twenty standard cycles, ain't it? You been keepin' track all this time?"

"Yessir," Peter gasped out after a third strike.

"Now, the part I don't get is why in the galaxy you thought you'd get away with stealin' from me," Yondu said in a sudden change of subject (and a pair of sudden strikes from his hand). "Greed I get, chafin' under the bit, sure, but if you wanted some alone time you coulda just said. Ain't I always given your ungrateful ass whatever you wanted?" He snorted. "Well, 'cept now." He lectured as he always would, but his hand didn't stop for a minute, always either in the process of striking or stroking the marks with admiration, pleased by how that seemed to pain Peter nearly as much as the blows themselves.

"Yessir, sorrysir, sorry," Peter said, voice hitching with little sobs. Yondu was only a third through the punishment and Peter was already near tears. But Yondu wasn't going to be satisfied with "near." He really should have done this ten cycles back, when Peter started getting restless. Teach the kid what defiance would cost.

At the twentieth smack, Peter's whimpers went silent (more or less) and his hands clenched tightly on Yondu's leg. He shifted his lower half gingerly and stifled a deeper noise. Yondu felt the kid's junk rising. He started smiling a little wider. "Better. Are you gonna behave yourself from now on, pet?" he crooned.

"Yessir," Peter moaned breathlessly. "Please...I'll be good..."

"Damn right you will. Now I ain't heartless. You want your own ship, that's fine - you earned her ages ago, fair 'n square. You can keep her, but that means you upkeep her, too. You bust her, you come back here until and unless you earn another. And you're grown now, 's no surprise you wanna leave home. But you weren't cheap to raise, kid, and you didn't start earnin' your keep for a long time."

Peter tensed.

"You get the same deal as the rest of the fleet, kid. You take whatever jobs you want, but standard rates apply. And you come visit at least once a cycle so I know you ain't dead."

"Yessir," Peter said, squeezing his thighs together. He was clearly dreading the end of the punishment, when he'd have to stand back up. And hell, Yondu could and would do this forever if he got to hear more of those little noises...but as to Peter's sudden shyness, he had a plan. Yondu always had a plan.

"When you get up you face me," he murmured softly. "Next time you fuck up this bad, I'll tie you to a table and let the whole crew give spankin' you a try. Or maybe they'd rather play with this?" His next hit was very low, fingers splayed so one calloused fingertip thumped Peter's hole. The Terran positively mewled, rutting into Yondu's thigh, but quickly reined himself in, just in case the Ravagers decided he was enjoying this too much and needed some other kind of punishment.

Strike thirty two was very slow to arrive. Yondu took a long break at thirty to admire the marks he'd been making. "Hell, boy, you ain't gonna be sitting down much any time this week, will ya?" Then he (finally) finished and helped Peter stand on trembling legs, ass facing their audience. Hooting and jeering followed, especially when Yondu gripped the meat of one sore cheek, squeezing hard, and then letting go only to land another noisy smack, one that surprised Peter enough to make him jump.

To Yondu's amusement, Peter's face was nearly as red as his ass, and his cock was even redder.

"You're pinker'n a Kree, boy," he announced, to more howls of laughter from the crew.

Peter looked at him pleadingly. Even his ears were turning red. Yondu grinned. "I see why Terrans do it. Very satisfying. Alright everyone, show's over, back to work!" He offered Peter his discarded shirt, to start with.

"Is this going to be a thing?" Peter asked vaguely, as the crowd thinned out.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Was it the audience, the punishment, or the position? Or all three?" he prompted, grabbing Peter's trousers.

"F-fuck you," Peter growled, but he was still hard. Yondu gave the kid a pass for the language, considering he was probably embarrassed as all hell (not that Yondu really cared about language, he just had a hankering to smack Peter around a little more).

"I don't think so, boy," he said mildly. "I asked you a question, and I'm content to wait 'til you answer 'fore you get these britches back. 'Course, you take too long, I probly oughta bring you to your new friends so's they don't think that I've killed you."

Peter's face went bone white. "N-no, okay, I'm sorry, I didn't - don't, please?" The nudity wasn't the problem, Yondu knew. It was the erection, and the evidence of punishment.

"Answer the question."

"I don't know. Maybe all three? I've - that's not exactly something I request from one-night-stands."

"Alright, pet. You do as you're told and I won't set the crew on your cherry pink behind, understand?" He'd never had so good a motivator for Peter to behave. "And if you decide you want a _private_ encore...you know where I am."


End file.
